Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(29)

Astrid scanned the letter. It was a very cold, matter-of-fact letter from the president’s office, explaining that she was now on academic probation due to her poor grades and attendance, and if she failed to improve next semester, she would be dismissed from the university. She would also need to meet with an academic counselor to discuss—

“What does this last part mean?” she whispered.

“It means they don’t think you have a specific degree in mind, and though they’d like to keep taking your family’s money, they have a reputation to uphold.”

“They know we’re bootleggers?”

“Most likely. Berkeley knows. That didn’t stop them from allowing Lowe to attend—or from hiring him, for that matter. But Lowe is an excellent teacher with field experience. And when he was your age, he was an excellent student and graduated with honors.”

“Unlike me. You’re saying this is my fault for being a dud, not my family’s reputation.” Astrid groaned and folded up the letter. “My mother is probably rolling over in her grave right now with disappointment. Please don’t tell anyone, Hadley. Not until I figure out how to handle it, all right?”

Hadley sighed heavily. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Astrid said, massaging her palm with one thumb. “I went down there to prove myself. I wanted to do it without Winter’s help or Lowe’s influence at Berkeley. I just wanted to do something on my own.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Very noble, I’d say.”

“Oh sure. Noble. Failing every class really proved my independence.”

“You certainly aren’t simpleminded, Astrid. But you have to attend class to learn.”

“I know. I just . . .” She stared at her hands and let the words spill out. “I hate it there. I hate the city. Hate the school. I don’t know what I’m doing there—don’t know why I’m even going. Everyone around me seems to know what they’re good at. You and Lowe have Egypt, and Winter and Bo have the businesses. My dormitory mate, Jane, wants to be a teacher. I don’t know what I’m good at. All my female friends are either engaged, married, or working until they find someone to marry. And everyone at college wants a career. But me? I just feel like my life is spiraling out of control.”

Hadley pulled Astrid’s chin up with two fingers. “It is not, I promise you. It only feels that way. Perhaps the southern campus is not for you. And marriage isn’t something one does with their life.”

Easy for her to say. No laws prevented her from being with Lowe. But Astrid didn’t say this. They weren’t that close.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Hadley said. “Marriage is a beautiful, wonderful thing, when done for the right reason, but it’s not a substitute for finding your place in this world. You are brimming with possibility. You just need to figure out what it is you want to do. That won’t happen overnight.”

“What if it never happens?”

“Think about it over the holidays. If you want to meet with me at the museum, my door is open. Easier to sit down and talk about it when”—she nodded toward the boys—“no one’s listening. But one more thing I have to ask. Have you ever thought about asking Aida to channel your mother? You mentioned that she would be disappointed in you, but I doubt that’s true. And you have a rare opportunity to find out.”

Astrid stuffed the university letter in her coat pocket. “I don’t know. Aida’s offered to do that for all of us, but it might be . . . strange. Greta says the dead should stay that way, and maybe the old battle-ax is right.”

Hadley gave her a soft smile. “Maybe she is.”

ELEVEN

Bo sneaked a glance at Astrid when he was waiting to pull out of the Anthropology annex parking lot. She was upset, but he couldn’t figure out why. Only that she’d been distressed when she was speaking privately with Hadley . . . and that she’d been speaking privately with Hadley. Since when had the two of them become confidantes? Though he’d come to know and appreciate Hadley’s cool demeanor—which was not as cool as she wanted you to believe—he couldn’t for the life of him think what the two of them were discussing.

“Planning on following in your brother’s footsteps and digging up mummies?”

“What’s that?”

“You and Hadley.”

“Oh no. That was nothing.”

“The same kind of nothing that is bothering you now?”

She nodded and stared out the window.

After several blocks of silence, he said, “You used to talk to me about those things.”

“Yes, well, everything I do or say is likely to be reported to Lowe or Winter, so . . .”

“That’s not true. I didn’t tell Winter about Gris-Gris last night. And I damn well should have, because a man attacked you, and what would you have done if I hadn’t been there?”

“He didn’t have a weapon.”

“So he couldn’t have possibly hurt you.”

“Magnussons don’t cower. That’s what Pappa always told me.”

“Cower, no. But chucking caution out the window is just plain stupid. I don’t want you going out alone in the city until we find out who the hell Max is and what he wants. It’s not safe.”